LETTER XCI.

To the same.

IT is no unpleasing contemplation, to consider the influence which soil and climate have upon the disposition of the inhabitants, the animals, and vegetables of different countries. That among the brute creation is much more visible than in man, and that in vegetables more than either. In some places those plants which are entirely poisonous at home lose their deleterious quality by being carried abroad: there are serpents in Macedonia so harmless as to be used as playthings for children; and we are told that, in some parts of Fez, there are lions so very timorous as to be scared, though coming in herds, by the cries of women.

I know of no country where the influence of climate and soil is more visible than in England; the same hidden cause which gives courage to their dogs and cocks, gives also a fierceness to their men. But chiefly this ferocity appears | among the vulgar. The polite of every country pretty nearly resemble each other. But as, in simpling, it is among the uncultivated productions of nature we are to examine the characteristic differences of climate and soil, so in an estimate of the genius of the people we must look among the sons of unpolished rusticity. The vulgar English, therefore, may be easily distinguished from all the rest of the world, by superior pride, impatience, and a peculiar hardiness of soul. Perhaps no qualities in the world are more susceptible of a finer polish than these; artificial complaisance and easy deference being superinduced over these, generally form a great character: something at once elegant and majestic; affable, yet sincere. Such in general are the better sort; but they who are left in primitive rudeness are the least disposed for society with others, or comfort internally, of any people under the sun.

The poor, indeed, of every country, are but little prone to treat each other with tenderness; their own miseries are too apt to engross all their pity; and perhaps, too, they give but little commiseration, as they find but little from

others. But in England the poor each other upon every occasion more than savage animosity, and they were in a state of open wa nature. In China, if two porters s meet in a narrow street, they woul down their burdens, make a thot excuses to each other for the accid interruption, and beg pardon on knees; if two men of the same oa tion should meet here, they would begin to scold, and at last to beat other. One would think they had mis enough resulting from penury and lal not to increase them by ill-nature ar themselves, and subjection to new p ties; but such considerations never w with them.

But to recompense this strange absur they are in the main generous, brave, enterprising. They feel the slightes juries with a degree of ungoverned patience, but resist the greatest calam with surprising fortitude. Those mist under which any other people in the w would sink, they have often showed t were capable of enduring; if accident cast upon some desolate coast, their severance is beyond what any other nai is capable of sustaining; if imprison for crimes, their efforts to escape greater than among others. The pecul strength of their prisons, when compa to those elsewhere, argues their hat ness; even the strongest prisons I ha ever seen in other countries would very insufficient to confine the untamcal spirit of an Englishman. In short, wh man dares do in circumstances of darg an Englishman will. His virtues seem sleep in the calm, and are called out on to combat the kindred storm.

But the greatest eulogy of this peop is the generosity of their miscreants: tenderness, in general, of their robbe and highwaymen. Perhaps no pe can produce instances of the same kind where the desperate mix pity with justice; still show that they understan a distinction in crimes, and even acts of violence, have still some tinctum of remaining virtue. In every oth country robbery and murder go alm always together; here it seldom happens

sept upon ill-judged resistance or purt. The banditti of other countries are merciful to a supreme degree; the ;hwayman and robber here are geneis, at least in their intercourse among ch other. Taking, therefore, my inon of the English from the virtues d vices practised among the vulgar, ey at once present to a stranger all eir faults, and keep their virtues up aly for the inquiring eye of a philosopher. Foreigners are generally shocked at eir insolence upon first coming among te: they find themselves ridiculed and ated in every street; they meet with One of those trifling civilities, so frequent iseshere, which are instances of mutual i-will, without previous acquaintance; ey travel through the country, either ignorant or too obstinate to cultivate ser acquaintance; meet every moment thing to excite their disgust, and w home to characterise this as the on of spleen, insolence, and ill-nature. ort England would be the last place the world I would travel to by way of ement, but the first for instruction. Iwould choose to have others for my raintance, but Englishmen for my bads.

LETTER XCII.

To the same.

Iz mind is ever ingenious in making aan distress. The wandering beggar, has none to protect, or feed, or to ter him, fancies complete happiness in ur and a full meal; take him from and want, feed, clothe, and employ , his wishes now rise one step above station; he could be happy were he sessed of raiment, food, and ease. pose his wishes gratified even in these, prospects widen as he ascends; he bds himself in affluence and tranquillity, *ized, but indolence soon breeds anxiety, ad he desires not only to be freed from in, but to be possessed of pleasure: pleare is granted him, and this but opens & soul to ambition; and ambition will be re to taint his future happiness, either ith jealousy, disappointment, or fatigue. But of all the arts of distress found out /man for his own torment, perhaps that

of philosophic misery is most truly ridicu lous; a passion nowhere carried to so extravagant an excess as in the country where I now reside. It is not enough to engage all the compassion of a philosopher here, that his own globe is harassed with wars, pestilence, or barbarity; he shall grieve for the inhabitants of the moon, if the situation of her imaginary mountains happens to alter; and dread the extinction of the sun, if the spots on his surface happen to increase. One should imagine, that philosophy was introduced to make men happy; but here it serves to make hundreds miserable.

My landlady, some days ago, brought me the diary of a philosopher of this desponding sort who had lodged in the apartment before me. It contains the history of a life which seems to be one continued tissue of sorrow, apprehension, and distress. A single week will serve as a specimen of the whole :

"MONDAY.-In what a transient decaying situation are we placed; and what various reasons does philosophy furnish to make mankind unhappy! A single grain of mustard shall continue to produce its similitude through numberless successions; yet what has been granted to this little seed, has been denied to our planetary system: the mustard seed is still unaltered, but the system is growing old, and must quickly fall to decay. How terrible will it be, when the motions of all the planets have at last become so irregular as to need repairing; when the moon shall fall into frightful paroxysms of alteration; when the earth, deviating from its ancient track, and with every other planet forgetting its circular revolutions, shall become so eccentric, that unconfined by the laws of system, it shall fly off into boundless space, to knock against some distant world, or fall in upon the sun, either extinguishing his light, or burned up by his flames in a moment! Perhaps, while I write, this dreadful change has begun. Shield me from universal ruin! Yet idiot man laughs, sings, and rejoices, in the very face of the sun, and seems no way touched with his situation.

"TUESDAY.-Went to bed in great distress, awaked and was comforted by

considering that this change was to happen at some indefinite time; and therefore, like death, the thoughts of it might easily be borne. But there is a revolution, a fixed determined revolution, which must certainly come to pass; yet which, by good fortune, I shall never feel, except in my posterity. The obliquity of the equator with the ecliptic is now twenty minutes less than when it was observed two thousand years ago by Piteas. If this be the case, in six thousand the obliquity will be still less by an whole degree. This being supposed, it is evident that our earth, as Louville has clearly proved, has a motion, by which the climates must necessarily change place, and in the space of one million of years England shall actually travel to the Antarctic pole. I shudder at the change! How shall our unhappy grandchildren endure the hideous climate! A million of years will soon be accomplished; they are but a moment when compared to eternity; then shall our charming country, as I may say, in a moment of time, resemble the hideous wilderness of Nova Zembla.

"WEDNESDAY.-To-night, by my calculation, the long predicted comet is to make its first appearance. Heavens ! what terrors are impending over our little dim speck of earth! Dreadful visitation! Are we to be scorched in its fires, or only smothered in the vapour of its tail? That is the question! Thoughtless mortals, go build houses, plant orchards, purchase estates, for to-morrow you die. But what if the comet should not_come? That would be equally fatal. Comets are servants which periodically return to supply the sun with fuel. If our sun, therefore, should be disappointed of the expected supply, and all his fuel be in the meantime burnt out, he must expire like an exhausted taper. What a miserable situation must our earth be in without his enlivening rays! Have we not seen several neighbouring suns entirely disappear? Has not a fixed star, near the tail of the Ram, lately been quite extinguished?

"THURSDAY.-The comet has not yet appeared; I am sorry for it: first, sorry because my calculation is false; secondly, sorry lest the sun should want fuel;

thirdly, sorry lest the wits should laug our erroneous predictions; and, four sorry because, if it appears to-nigh must necessarily come within the st of the earth's attraction; and He help the unhappy country on whi happens to fall!

"FRIDAY.-Our whole society have out, all eager in search of the comet. have seen not less than sixteen come different parts of the heavens. How we are unanimously resolved to fix 1 one only to be the comet expected. near Virgo wants nothing but a tail to out completely for terrestrial admirat "SATURDAY.-The moon is, I fin her old pranks. Her appulses, librati and other irregularities, indeed amaze My daughter, too, is this morning gon with a grenadier. No way surpris I was never able to give her a relist wisdom. She ever promised to be ar expletive in the creation. But the m the moon gives me real uneainess fondly fancied I had fixed her. I thought her constant, and constant to me; but every night discovers infidelity, and proves me a desolate i abandoned lover.”—Adieu.

LETTER XCIII.

To the same.

IT is surprising what an influence tit shall have upon the mind, even tho these titles be of our own making. Li children, we dress up the puppets finery, and then stand in astonishment the plastic wonder. I have been told a rat-catcher here, who strolled for a lot time about the villages near town, witho finding any employment; at last, howeve he thought proper to take the title of Majesty's Rat-catcher in ordinary, an thus succeeded beyond his expectation when it was known that he caught rats court, all were ready to give him count! nance and employment.

But of all the people, they who mak books seem most perfectly sensible of th advantages of titular dignity. All seem convinced, that a book written by vaka hands can neither instruct nor improve none but kings, chams, and mandarize

write with any probability of success. the titles inform me right, not only gs and courtiers, but emperors themves, in this country, periodically supply de press.

A man here who should write, and nestly confess that he wrote, for bread, ght as well send his manuscript to fire e baker's oven; not one creature will him all must be court-bred poets, pretend at least to be court-bred, who expect to please. Should the caitiff any avow a design of emptying our kets and filling his own, every reader ld instantly forsake him : even those write for bread themselves would bine to worry him, perfectly sensible this attempts only served to take the ad out of their mouths.

And yet this silly prepossession the me amazes me, when I consider, that dst all the excellent productions in wit have appeared here were purely the ng of necessity; their Drydens, rs, Otways, and Farquhars, were all ers for bread. Believe me, my friend, er has a most amazing faculty of sharp. g the genius; and he who, with a full 7. can think like a hero, after a course fasting, shall rise to the sublimity of a -god.

But what will most amaze is, that this set of men, who are now so much depreed by fools, are, however, the very best ters they have among them at present. te my own part, were I to buy a hat, I ad not have it from a stocking-maker, a hatter; were I to buy shoes, I should go to the tailor's for that purpose. It just so with regard to wit: did I, for life, desire to be well served, I would ly only to those who made it their de, and lived by it. You smile at the tity of my opinion: but be assured, my bend, that wit is in some measure mehanical; and that a man long habituated catch at even its resemblance, will at st be happy enough to possess the subBy a long habit of writing he quires a justness of thinking, and a astery of manner, which holiday writers, en with ten times his genius, may vainly tempt to equal.

ance.

How then are they deceived who

expect from title, dignity, and exterior circumstance, an excellence, which is in some measure acquired by habit, and sharpened by necessity! You have seen, like me, many literary reputations, promoted by the influence of fashion, which have scarce survived the possessor; you have seen the poor hardly earn the little reputation they acquired, and their merit only acknowledged when they were incapable of enjoying the pleasures of popu larity: such, however, is the reputation worth possessing; that which is hardly earned is hardly lost.-Adieu.

WHERE will my disappointments end? Must I still be doomed to accuse the severity of my fortune, and show my constancy in distress, rather than moderation in prosperity? I had at least hopes of conveying my charming companion safe from the reach of every enemy, and of again restoring her to her native soil. But those hopes are now no more.

We

Upon leaving Terki, we took the nearest road to the dominions of Russia. passed the Ural mountains, covered with eternal snow, and traversed the forests of Ufa, where the prowling bear and shrieking hyæna keep an undisputed possession. We next embarked upon the rapid river Bulija, and made the best of our way to the banks of the Wolga, where it waters the fruitful valleys of Casan.

There were two vessels in company, properly equipped and armed, in order to oppose the Wolga pirates, who, we were informed, infested this river. Of all mankind these pirates are the most terrible. They are composed of the criminals and outlawed peasants of Russia, who fly to the forests that lie along the banks of the Wolga for protection. Here they join in parties, lead a savage life, and have no other subsistence but plunder. Being deprived of houses, friends, or a fixed habitation, they become more terrible even than the tiger, and as insensible to all the feelings of humanity. They neither give quarter to those they conquer, nor receive it when overpowered themselves. The

severity of the laws against them serves to increase their barbarity, and seems to make them a neutral species of beings, between the wildness of the lion and the subtlety of the man. When taken alive, their punishment is hideous. A floating gibbet is erected, which is let run down with the stream; here, upon an iron hook stuck under their ribs, and upon which the whole weight of their body depends, they are left to expire in the most terrible agonies, some being thus found to linger several days successively.

We were but three days' voyage from the confluence of this river into the Wolga, when we perceived at a distance behind us an armed bark coming up, with the assistance of sails and oars, in order to attack us. The dreadful signal of death was hung upon the mast, and our captain with his glass could easily discern them to be pirates. It is impossible to express our consternation on this occasion; the whole crew instantly came together to consult the properest means of safety. It was, therefore, soon determined to send off our women and valuable commodities in one of our vessels, and that the men should stay in the other, and boldly oppose the enemy. This resolution was soon put into execution, and I now reluctantly parted from the beautiful Zelis, for the first time since our retreat from Persia. The vessel in which she was disappeared to my longing eyes, in proportion as that of the pirates approached us. They soon came up; but, upon examining our strength, and perhaps sensible of the manner in which we had sent off our most valuable effects, they seemed more eager to pursue the vessel we had sent away, than attack us. In this manner they continued to harass us for three days, still endeavouring to pass us without fighting. But, on the fourth day, finding it entirely impossible, and despairing to seize the expected booty, they desisted from their endeavours, and left us to pursue our voyage without interruption.

Our joy on this occasion was great; but soon a disappointment more terrible, because unexpected, succeeded. The bark in which our women and treasure were sent off was wrecked upon the banks

of the Wolga, for want of a propert ber of hands to manage her, and whole crew carried by the peasants # country. Of this, however, we wen sensible till our arrival at Moscow; wỪ expecting to meet our separated barl were informed of its misfortune, and loss. Need I paint the situation o mind on this occasion? Need I des all I feel, when I despair of beholdin beautiful Zelis more? Fancy had dr the future prospect of my life in the g colouring; but one unexpected strol fortune has robbed it of every ch Her dear idea mixes with every sce pleasure, and without her presene enliven it, the whole becomes ted insipid, insupportable. I will conft now that she is lost, I will confess I 1 her; nor is it in the power of time reason to erase her image from my h -Adieu.

LETTER XCV.

From Lien Chi Altangi to Hingpo, at Ma YOUR misfortunes are mine; but, as e period of life is marked with its o you must learn to endure them. 1 appointed love makes the misery of you disappointed ambition, that of manho and successless avarice, that of age. Th three attack us through life; and it is duty to stand upon our guard. To we ought to oppose dissipation, t endeavour to change the object of affections; to ambition, the happiness indolence and obscurity; and to avari the fear of soon dying. These are i shields with which we should arm ơ selves; and thus make every scene of li if not pleasing, at least supportable.

Men complain of not finding a place repose. They are in the wrong t have it for seeking. What they shot indeed complain of, is that the heart st enemy to that very repose they seek. themselves alone should they impute the discontent. They seek within the sh span of life to satisfy a thousand des re each of which alone is insatiable. month passes, and another comes on: year ends, and then begins; but man still unchanging in folly, still blindly cr